ok! let's do this. TAG LINE: the world's first horror movie where the black guy isn't the first guy to die. wait wait i got another one i got another one: prepare to redefine your ideas of 'black comedy'... ok i'll stop.

heard about this film last year, and was kinda immediately turned off by the premise of it, because it sounded like the kind of film to me that offers nothing new or substantial, and only relies on some dumb schtick that went over really well at the pitch meeting and therefore got greenlit. "think about it guys: a horror film... about a black guy being grilled by his white gf's parents. is it in his head?!". i mean having no context, it sounds gimmicky. not that i usually decide whether or not to watch films going by completely baseless assumptions like that, but i'm just saying, something about the use of the racial thing as a strong component of a film's plot, in an age so obsessed with race and conflict and distinction, put me off.

but in what recently became a very common occurrence - i was dead wrong, and this film was surprisingly solid and worthy (and btw i just had to go through like six wrong alt spellings to get this bitch of a word 'occurrence' right, and i won a spelling bee in 2nd grade and my mom says i'm a genius).

anyway the film's still got a few things that kinda peeved me, but perhaps the thing i dug most about it, was how cleverly it found a way to point out and contextualize all these scattered real-world issues, and bring them together into a cohesive, narratively solid story for all the right reasons. in that way, i thought it was remarkably similar to Aronofsky's "mother!" - in that it, also, found a way to talk about very personal things through a surrealist medium, in a way that felt incredibly organic and not forced or stitched together. there are no jittery gaps or leaps of logic within the universe of the film to make the narrative fit the racial issues Jordan Peele (the film's writer and director) wished to talk about. everything that's there from a discussional standpoint is there for a reason (though the same can't necessarily be said for the entertainment/storytelling ones).

and that's also kind of what peeved me about it: it's so accurate and graceful in its walking of that delicate tightrope, but it kinda fucks up a bunch of other stuff that (at least to me) seems much more trivial, i.e some bad stylistic or cliche'd choices that are beneath this film's level as a whole, or not fully baked sequences, etc. but more importantly than that, like, it's a film that sets its sights on calling out various forms of more 'subtle' racism, such as bringing up one's race as an unjustly legitimate topic of conversation in a cocktail party, and saying they perpetuate racism - but then it has this stereotypical token funnyguy black dude with a lilting high pitched voice stringing together mothafuckin' curse words dogg, you nawmsayin? and in general it seems like there's this deliberate intent to make this film distinctly 'black', with the whole slang and comedic hood angle thing going, when imho it would make more sense for it to neutralize those influences, and be more about normal, three dimensional people facing a fucked up situation, rather than be stereotype-matching characters. i mean, does it make it better or more justified because it came from a black director? is it like black guys being able to call each other 'nigga', but if white folk did the same thing they'd be severely criticized for it?

that "best friend" character not only felt coarsely written and two dimensional compared with the rest of the cast, but it also kinda disrupted the tone of the rest of the film, which is otherwise much darker. i'm all for including some pace-breakers and not go all out overly-serious in horror films; it's ultimately a smart and powerful filmmaking choice, and can make the funny moments funnier, and the dark moments darker. but the comedic element here is too bold, and often kinda felt like having too much sugar in my tea.

but it's ok that some of the film was kinda rough around the edges, i thought, because what redeems it it where it shines through. especially the latter half. it's really very well written; M Night Shamalyan should be sucking the hell out of this film's cock, if you'd excuse my portugese. all those eerie conversations that make no sense, and at first you kinda think they're just stock horror dialogue that crudely tries to 'get under your skin' - but they are later revealed to serve a very particular purpose, and it all works beautifully in retrospect as you unfurl & unravel it in your mind. like the way the white people in the film take an inappropriate interest in what it's like to be black, or examine the protagonist like he's a zoo animal, or when a lady asks if it's really true sleeping with black guys is better. good stuff. i found that payoff that makes everything click very rewarding and crisp. and besides, it's such a fucking brilliant idea to base a horror film on the awkwardness of social interaction in a big family event. to add all these small ideas around it and make it into something compelling that grows and becomes weird and goes places - i thought it was all very nicely put together.

i also really enjoyed the surrealist elements; the void of the "sunken place" that the protagonist falls into, somewhat echoing "Under The Skin" (which i loved), or the out-there-ness of his interactions with the black folks he encounters there. in particular, i enjoyed Georgina's character - that lady absolutely killed it, and her acting is awe inspiring. this entire scene might be my single fav moment of the film:

lol she's so fucking wonderfully insane. the way she achieved that precise balance of how a stuck up anglo saxon white woman would be incredibly awkward to be around if their voice emanated from a warmly black person, and the way she manages to convey that shard of restrained joy, peeking out through the cracks from the black woman caged inside that body, unable to express it physically - man, that scene is just knocking it out of the park. superb acting.

another stunning standout: that one scene where the grandfather is sprinting towards the camera. that right there, is the perfect example of how you unsettle an audience without using anything revolting or outrageous; it's all about beautiful, efficient minimalism and and profound insight into what unsettles us as people. apparently just seeing somebody sprint towards you when you're taken off guard can be incredibly alarming. i absolutely loved it.

i promised myself i'd keep this one short, cause last few ones got really overly rambly and i get the feeling ppl are tl;dr'ing the fuck out of recent reviews, and i can't blame 'em. but - i will say the reverse slasher ending was cathartic and cool as hell, and that the acting was pretty good across the board - particularly Allison Williams as the gf, and the lead dude who did a pretty good job overall, except perhaps crying too much lol.

overall - very nice creative effort, if slightly unbalanced and occasionally a bit rough out the gate; yet its shortcomings don't prevent it from ultimately being very enjoyable, certainly intelligent, and worth watching.

I've been meaning to rewatch Get Out. Loved it in theaters, but agree that the friend/B-plot feels out of step with the rest of the movie. Some really great, surreal imagery (definitely caught a whif of Under The Skin as well). I totally expected the lead character to bump into a few errect men when he enters the Upside Down.

ok let's make everybody torch me for being wrong. hot take incoming:
i did not like this movie much.

i'm still debating within myself if it has to do with me knowing most about it than the last 3-4 films i had watched, because i firmly believe expectations can fuck with you, and hinder your ability to organically judge art. at least that's the case for me, i can't speak for anybody else obviously, but anyhoo to hell with me and my anal tendencies.

it's not that i think it's a bad film, or poorly made; it's wonderfully shot and beautifully produced and decently acted, and it obviously aims to be a memorable larger-than-life endeavor. but i think it might be that overreaching quality that made it unappealing to me.

it feels to me like this film lacked focus. like it tries to simultaneously be everything, and to engage, and to impress, but along the way in order to achieve that goal, it neglects subtlety. many times during the course of watching this film, i thought to myself that it basically retells or recycles moments from other works, without really having provided any added value or insight that renders it significant, or affecting.

it's got it all: the classic 70's government facility with the comic book look that obviously pays homage to countless works, but in vibe and context probably ends up being closest to "Stranger Things" (and that's not a compliment). the main villain in the film is played by Michael Shannon, who basically reprises his (completely flat, one-note asshole) character from Paul Thomas Anderson's "Inherent Vice". once more, we get to see the token humorous funny black Aunt Jemaima character literally talking in platitudes the entire film. i mean, even the fucking Fish Dude himself and his relationship with his special human are remarkably similar to E.T., right down to the innocent childlike characterization, mysterious healing powers, and themes of redemption. even when the creature breaks free there is this sequence that has the government facility looking like a level in Doom, with a bloody monster handprint next to a maximum-security keypad, and blood smears on the limestone concrete floor.

it all feels regurgitated and deliberate in its attempts to evoke response with proven devices. i resent that - in all forms of art. in music, in cinema, in visual arts. hopefully i don't sound like a huge douche right now, but i believe we live in a time when fewer and fewer people actually make art to express themselves in a real, mindful, way that is essential and cathartic to the artist; but rather, so many basically imitate and pay homage to art they appreciate and love, with varying degrees of sophistication.

i'm not saying the latter is inherently wrong - but it is distinctly different and, imho, inferior to art a person simply feels compelled to make, or art that has to do with the process more than the result. in other words - not being so preoccupied with evoking response.

this film dabbles in drama, comedy, fantasy, mystery, the supernatural, that sweet 80's cathartic payoffs - but it has no emotional center, because all these different currents keep pulling and pushing in opposite ways, and none of them ever goes truly deep in its respective area. a real jack of all trades film, with an overly-animated lead CGI character, including the obnoxious sound work to go along with it to boot - you know, the kind that has you hearing some slimy goo whenever Fish Guy blinks or whatever. very heavy handed.

with all that said though, it's worth noting that i didn't completely hate it, and i did enjoy the gorgeous visuals. they did a totally ace job capturing the spirit of the time through meticulous sets, costumes, retro-esque equipment. there are many cool set pieces scattered throughout, as well.

maybe i just wasn't in the mood, i dunno. i might sound harsher than i really am, because i was trying to get to the root of why i finished this film and went 'meh'. but i think i got it.

overall, it's a decent film. certainly overrated, i'd say. it's got its moments, is occasionally moving, and overall beautifully produced. but for my tastes, it was too rooted in homage, kitsche, and sweet fantastical filmmaking that's aimed more towards children than adults. rather than embracing the surreal elements and making it all play out like a strange dream, it ended up being just another two dimensional fable that follows a painfully predictable narrative trajectory, and it's only a matter of waiting to see it acted out. you see it all coming from a mile away. and as i said - added value is not exactly this picture's strong suite.

I guess this is a divisive film because of how differently people are going to experience it. From the criticism that you have levelled against this and The Hateful Eight I get that you find the use of well known story devices, and in-movie references to real-life movie-making cheap and contrived...I guess to the point where the 4th wall is broken and you're no longer engaged by the story.

I can definitely understand that, and I feel the same way about all those big budget action-films which is why I don't bother to watch them anymore, unless I'm taking the kids or it's a franchise that I have an inexplicable affinity for (Like Planet of the Apes ... I said inexplicable, ok)

I think Guillermo del Toro is, despite his rejection of Catholicism, still a very Catholic storyteller in that (in my opinion) he mashes a bunch of things together and expects that through magic, the components will become more than the sum of their parts, in much the same way that transubstantiation turns wine into the Blood of Christ.

And also a Catholic storyteller in the vein of the magic realists, whose work I can only assume you hate - Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Isabel Allende, etc. That South American lyricism and mysticism allows for stupid, stupid things to happen in stories - ghosts and demons and really childish, supernatural stuff. Stuff that seemingly doesn't belong in the realm of adulthood, with our Complicated Relationships and Layered Emotions. But the appearance of these things - and in the Shape of Water it is the Fish-man - allows for topics that ordinarily bring a story to a standstill - topics like death, like deformity, betrayal, abuse, these topics roll in and out of the story at a pace that is more akin to real life, which ends up making the emotional rhythm of the story more in tune with someone who has a real life.

In an everyday conversation, nobody wants to spend 20 minutes delving into the multifaceted reaction you have to being dumped, or having your mother die. They ask "How's your mother?" or "How's Joe?" and you tell them the truth, and 5 seconds later they're talking about the half-price paint they bought at the hardware store yesterday and how they would love to have coffee with you at the new place by the library.

The Shape of Water does this with The Fish-man and The Mute. We don't want to acknowledge a lot of things about this relationship, because it's uncomfortable. The fact that intimate relationships are often basic and animalistic, and despite our best attempts to mask that fact with conversation, at their core, they are about needs for sex and touch and we are prepared to accept those from places that are shunned and feared by society at large, if that is the option that presents itself to us. Those are truths filled with shame and sadness for a lot of us. It's a lot of human "stuff" to cover in a story, and it could be so heavy and intense and draining. But because the story presents them so playfully, with such far-fetched characters and situations, it's digestible and actually...it's entertaining, even.

One of the reasons I love Guillermo del Toro is that he does that old-fashioned cinema of spectacle stuff. I love his stuff because I know if I see his name, I can get ready to forget about the real world for a bit, but will still resolve a couple of emotional bits of crap I have going on, while I watch (because of those devices he uses, I mean, because of the way difficult things affect fantasy characters). There's a lot of forgiveness involved - it's not like watching some meticulously planned Wes Anderson film. There are lots of dropped balls and awkward things that don't work, but the effort he puts into presenting and exploring real human pain and confusion with fantasy and spectacle...I don't believe anyone else really does that. Not like him. So I forgive all the other stuff.

I guess this is a divisive film because of how differently people are going to experience it. From the criticism that you have levelled against this and The Hateful Eight I get that you find the use of well known story devices, and in-movie references to real-life movie-making cheap and contrived...I guess to the point where the 4th wall is broken and you're no longer engaged by the story.

this is a legitimate criticism on the way i watch films, tbch.

but i think you kinda got a wrong read on me regarding the referencing thing. it's not that i necessarily find it cheap and contrived - but there's definitely the issue of context. with pulp fiction, for example, that collage of influences and references is a beautiful feature in and of itself, and is certainly not a flaw.

although i acknowledge that i can someone become detached and critical when watching films, i
would also like to argue the idea of context here: i think i truly good filmmaker knows it would be presumptuous to assume that the audience will just pop into theaters and have beautifully clean slates of an open minds, ready to absorb his or her masterful work of art.

mediums exists within a context, there's competition for quality and detail, and that's fair. ultimately, it is only up to a really good creation, to find a way to get you emotionally invest yourself in its story regardless, or in spite of that.

i mean, nobody likes being the bitter old asshole whose tolerance towards brilliant art is forever increasing. but it's as inevitable as oxidizing. i try not to do it and realize very well that i might have just wrongly grilled this film cause i wasn't in sync with it at all. i'll probably watch it again at some point. seems like a good one to rewatch and explore more details.

(kickoff trivia: contrary to what many a folk may or may not believe, that bellybutton in the poster is not mira sorvino's. [keanuwhoa.jpg])

whew, check this guy out. typing out a fundamentally redundant review about a cheesy 90's film everybody had forgotten about, starring the guy who turned out to be a rapist, serial harrass-er, and overall terrible person.

i was just in the mood to revisit this one and decided to act on it, and tbh it was kinda refreshing watching it from a distance, after all these years, and to watch it more cleanly and with a more developed frame of mind than in my early twenties.

seeing as it won like 5 oscars or something, it's hard not to call this movie overrated. not to deny it its strengths - but it's so riddled with flaws. the quintessential word here is 'inconsistent', and at its slumps, the filmmaking here is almost sitcom-esque, in an almost endearing way. and yet still, despite it all, there remains a core about it that is so strong and passionate and sincere, that it's seriously hard to deny or be cynical about. it has heart.

there's a lot of juxtaposing of great, accomplished elements, right alongside cheesy, flat elements. sometimes it's beautifully subtle, and sometimes it coarsely bangs you over the head with what it's trying to convey. i suppose that's kind of a trademark for Sam Mendes, the director (who's also responsible for The Road to Perdition, for example - not a dissimilar film), as his films tend to be overtly and unapologetically emotional (critics might say, exceedingly so), and sometimes somewhat cartoonesque in their realization of the world & universe they exist within.

it's the little things, like how such a major part of the film's plot is based around how the residents of two neighbouring houses pretty much see any crucial detail of the other household's life, while just happening to look out the window (all houses of both households are in perfect parallels for convenient & efficient spying). or, the shaping of very bold, somewhat cookie-cutter characters, like the forceful homophobic colonel who turns out to be gay. or, you know, how nobody calls the cops on the creepy kid filming his teen girl neighbor in the dark from his porch. those are more filmmaking faults than conceptual ones, i feel. it often just feels like it wasn't given the best treatment when it came to realizing it.

the acting is also spotty and often lands on the side of melodramatic, which isn't always necessarily a flaw but can feel a bit excessive (like Annette Bening's "shut up you stupid baby" auto-face-slapping scene).

BUT despite all that stuff, the film then proceeds to occasionally floor you with an incredible scene, or a moment, or a subtlety, that just hits dead center straight into your heart. for all the ridicule and meme-ery that the plastic bag scene received over the years, it's almost easy to forget how truly great and incredibly moving it is. it's easily the most important, defining and pivotal scene of the entire film, and it succeeds profoundly at describing a very human condition so beautifully, eloquently, and deeply. the way that kid delivers those lines, it really is something special. "i want to remember. i need to remember."

it's a film that often loses its focus - is the best way i could describe it from my perspective. but the effect that that scene has on the entire film, and how it builds up towards what will ultimately become the payoff from that point on - it makes it all worth it when those final voiceover lines come:

"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me. But it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that is about to burst. And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it. And then it flows through me like rain, and I can't feel anything but gratitude, for every single moment of my stupid little life."

those words are etched on somebody's heart. that script, all those lines, are far more powerful and beautiful than what this movie ever managed to become. more than it is a great film, it's an exceptional and fantastic screenplay. but nevertheless, the film was able to let those words shine through, and do them justice, if only for those little moments that truly count.

those words are etched on somebody's heart. that script, all those lines, are far more powerful and beautiful than what this movie ever managed to become. more than it is a great film, it's an exceptional and fantastic screenplay. but nevertheless, the film was able to let those words shine through, and do them justice, if only for those little moments that truly count.

they're etched into my heart, too.

You big goof. You nearly made me cry with this review. And you made me want to watch this again.

that would make us sorta kinda even, cause i watched Beverly Hills Cop and downloaded Coming To America. it's funny how i didn't notice this as a kid, but upon watching it now was so clear to me that BHC was kind of a trainwreck script mostly based on on-set improvisation. this movie could never be made nowadays, ever. fun, sloppy watch.